


Broken Hallelujah

by Braxp88



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Mystery, Original Character(s), Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Fanfiction, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:46:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braxp88/pseuds/Braxp88
Summary: Sinnoh is a region that has been viciously torn and divided by the cultish worship of various gods. How will Gabriel Buchan, a young man from Iron Island, fare as he's tossed into the fanatic crusades of Sinnoh on his quest for revenge and justice?





	1. The King's Trials

**Broken Hallelujah**

**Chapter 1: The King’s Trials**

It was a peaceful day on Iron Island of the Sinnoh region. Birds chirped in the trees that rose from the mountainside. Smaller pokemon such as bidoof and rattata scurried along the forest floor in search of berries or smaller bugs for food. Further up the mountain, braviary nested in crags in the cliff side. The large raptors roosted protectively over their young. At the base of the mountain, a small town was nestled between the entrance of the old mine for which the island was named and a small ocean harbor. The homes were small and made from the roughhewn timber of the island. A few fighting type pokemon ambled aimlessly through the sleepy town.

The silence of the town was broken by a sharp whistle piercing the air. In a small clearing, a young man was alone and practicing with an elegant sword in his right hand.

Slash.

Block.

Step back. Duck.

Stab.

Step forward. Slash.

Another step. Block.

Pivot. Slash.

Dodge.

Slash.

Done. Perspiration trickled down his neck as he finished the workout. His skin was bronzed from the island sun and his thick sandy hair stuck to the sweat on his neck and forehead. The man sheathed his sword -- a long, straight blade with no guard on the handle -- into a leather scabbard at his side.

“Don’t wear yourself out, Gabe.”

The voice came from a man in his forties or fifties. His brown hair was starting to thin and gray. His face was marred with both laughter lines and scars alike. He wore only a pair of shorts and carried no weapon.

“I’m not,” Gabe responded, “How long have you been watching?”

The older of the two men took the question as an invitation to truly enter the clearing from the trees he was lurking in. “Just long enough to see you finish that last form. You know that you’ll need something a little better than Form Three, right?”

“Of course, Dad. That was a cooldown. Besides, Elder Saul always says that going back to the basics can save your life.”

“He’s not wrong. But relying too much on them will prove fatal against any competent opponent,” Gabe’s father responded. He held his hand out for his son’s blade which was promptly handed over. The blade was long but thin -- somewhere between a rapier and an actual long sword. The blade flowed directly into the worn leather hilt with no cross guard. It was simple, like most things on the island. Handing the sword back, Gabe’s father spoke again, “I still don’t understand why you use this. It’s too thin to truly block anything. And if you do manage a block, you get your hand taken off anyways.”

Gabe snorted at the comment. “Just because you can’t use it doesn’t mean that I can’t. I could beat you with it any day.”

His father rolled his eyes and shot back, “Yeah I also haven’t touched a blade since my trails thirty years ago. Speaking of, it’s time. Go wash up; you’ve got a busy night ahead of you.”

Gabe nodded in affirmation as he took his sword back from his father. He took a few testing swipes with it before returning the sword to its sheath. “Yessir. I’ll see you back at home, Dad.”

His father nodded and left him alone in the clearing.

Today was Gabriel Buchan’s birthday -- his twentieth birthday to be more precise. Twenty was the age at which all young men on Iron Island participated in the King’s Trials. Women could have a trial of their own, but it was not required for them. The Trials were a longstanding tradition on the island, dating back hundreds of years. If someone completed the Trials, they would become heir to the throne and eventually king.

The last king of the island died two hundred years ago. No one had completed the Trials since.

~~*~~

The town square was a madhouse when Gabriel arrived an hour later. The reason for the chaos was Gabriel and his Trials. Before every set of Trials, the entire town -- all two hundred some people -- would throw a party. It was an interesting mix between a birthday party, funeral procession, and the anointing of a prince. In a way, it was all three.

In the very center of town was a large bonfire -- maintained carefully by a charmeleon. At the fire, large spits of meat were slowly cooking and filling the air with their succulent scents. Off to one side was a makeshift dance floor beside a steel drum band. Couples spun gaily around the area to the beat of the music. Also nearby was a place for competitions such as arm wrestling, actual wrestling, and even sword fighting -- with wooden staves instead of actual blades. That area was filled with young boys trying to prove their strength both to each other and the gaggles of giggling girls watching. Dispersed throughout the rest of the town square were carnival games -- such as ring toss and pin the tail on the blitzle -- and tables for dining. At the head of the square was a raised table for the Elder and family of honor: Gabriel’s family.

Of the two hundred plus people at the festival, Gabriel knew every single one. The town was small and everyone grew up knowing everyone else. And with knowing every other person there, he got well wishes and congratulations from everyone. Hidden behind every word though, was hesitation. Almost as if the townspeople refused to fully support him; as if they were afraid he would let them down. Ignoring the morbid feeling the rest of the people were giving off, Gabe made his way towards the competition area of the square. There he found his two best friends sitting at a small round table watching the young boys wail on each other with sticks.

“All hail Gabriel, heir to the throne!”

Josh Redner was about the same height as Gabe but was much bulkier. He had dark brown, almost black, eyes to match his dark, curly hair. His deep voice had a slight draw that wasn’t uncommon among people on Iron Island. His companion and twin, Carissa Redner, was about a head shorter than the two young men. Her light brown hair was hanging over one shoulder in a loose braid. She rolled her brown eyes and punched John in the shoulder.

“Thanks, Riss,” Gabe laughed out as Josh yelped in surprise.

“Of course. Feeling okay?”

Gabe let out a sigh as he sat down at the table with his two friends, his back towards the boys fighting by the table. He had become friends with the twins almost out of necessity. The town on Iron Island was small. The population matched the size of the town. Josh and Carissa were the only two people within three years of him. That being said, they were two of the best friends Gabe could ask for.

He sighed once more before answering, “Yeah. Just a little anxious. I never thought about how the whole town acts like the Trials are a death sentence until I’m about to start them. It’s starting to get to me.”

“Psh, don’t worry ‘bout it Gabe,” Josh scoffed, “When was the last time someone died during the Trials? Thirty, forty years ago? ‘Sides, you were always Saul’s favorite. And he’s trained everyone on the island for the past fifty years. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Oh, and I suppose you weren’t scared at all when you went through your trials, were you, Joshua?”

“Course I was, Riss. Scared I’d actually hafta fight and win. Y’all know me, I love a good fight. But being king is just way too much work.”

Carissa didn’t look convinced and for good reason. Josh had been a mess at the start of his Trials two months prior. Gabe clearly remembered having to talk his friend out of running away a time or two that night.

“What about you, Riss?” Gabe asked, looking towards the girl, “How do you think you would’ve been if you had to do the Trials?”

The girl contemplated her answer for a moment before responding, “If I had the training you two had, I’d like to think I wouldn’t be too worried. Josh did have a point when he said the last person to die was a long time ago, but it’s still a possibility. Still… I don’t think I would’ve handled it too well.”

The three fell silent for a time, content to sit in their thoughts and watch the young boys try to impress the giggling girls. After one boy made a much smaller boy run off crying, Josh broke the silence.

“Whelp,” he started up, “I’m gonna go try to convince Pa to let me drink. Y’all good?” When both Gabe and Carissa nodded in affirmation, Josh left the pair in search of his father.

“Are you really okay, Gabe?”

Gabe turned to the girl who was staring at him intently. Her dark brown eyes were the same color as her brother’s but filled with concern and worry rather than mischief and humor. She always was the nurturing one of the group. “I’m fine, Carissa. Promise.” He smiled softly at the girl in reassurance.

The concern in the girl’s eyes faded slightly as she cheered up some. “Well good. If you’re feeling fine, then you’re going to come dance with me,” she stated as she stood and offered her hand to Gabe.

“But what about Josh? Or the feast? Or --”

“Don’t you try to get out of this Gabriel Buchan. I danced with my brother before his trials and I’ll dance with you before yours.” Gabe started at the use of his full name and immediately complied with the slightly older girl.

It took only a few minutes to navigate through the crowd to the small square of hard packed dirt that acted as the dance floor. Other couples moved to give the two space as they reached the area. Gabe thought he saw some older women point at them and whisper to each other, but he paid them no heed as he spun Carissa around the dance floor to the beat of the music. A peal of laughter escaped from her lips as he twirled her into a deep dip before spinning her back out. It felt good to dance. To let everything go. The pressure of the Trials. The expectations of the Elder, of his family, of the town. It felt even better to be dancing with Carissa, one of the people he loved most, and arguably the person who knew him best.

Almost as if to validate his thoughts, she pulled him into a slower sway as she returned to his arms. One hand clasped hers and the other gently wrapped around her waist as she rested her head on his chest.

“Gabe.” Her voice was thick with emotion. Gabe suspected that she was fighting back some tears, though he couldn’t confirm that. “I know you’re worried, even if you won’t say it out loud. But it’s going to be okay. You’re going to come back tomorrow. Alive. You’re not your uncle. You’re better. Gabe, if I had to pick anyone on this island to complete the Trials, it would be you. Not Josh. You.”

She pulled away from him just enough so he could see her eyes wet with unshed tears. “You’re going to come back. For your parents, for Josh… for me. Please come back to me.”

She stepped up on her toes and pecked him on the lips just as a loud horn was blown signaling the start of the feast. The kiss lasted only a fraction of a second before Carissa Redner was gone, leaving a wide-eyed Gabriel alone on the dance floor.

~~*~~

Gabe was still in a daze as he sat down at the head table for the feast minutes later. His mother had to guide him to the table from the dance floor. He sat between his mother and father with Elder Saul sitting beside his father. His father now wore a deep blue, almost black shirt unlike earlier. His mother, a tall woman with long sandy hair, wore simple black pants and shirt. Gabe looked very little like his mom, only having the same color hair. He took after his father in every other aspect.

Elder Saul wore completely white robes as a sign of his position. The position of Elder was an honorary position, almost a placeholder for the eventual King who would truly rule and guide the small town. He was the oldest person on the island, nearing a century old. He had only a few wispy gray hairs atop his mostly bald head and a long thick gray beard covering his jaw. Despite his age, the man was still incredibly fit and equally dangerous. He continued to train all young boys on the island in the art of sword fighting, Gabe included. That training kept him in shape as well as whipping his students into shape.

As the rest of the village took their seats at large, round tables surrounding the fire, Elder Saul stood up and began, “Welcome to the Feast of Trials!” There was a smattering of applause from the crowd.

“Tonight, we remember our past kings. We remember Aleph, the First. We remember Omari, the Last. We remember all who ruled in between. In remembrance of our kings, we drink.” Everyone raised their glass and drank. Gabe grimaced as the wine went down his throat. The wine made on the island had a very metallic taste as the occa berries used for the wine were pressed in an iron winepress. The dark red drink became known as iron wine because of how it was made. It was the traditional drink on the island, and one Gabe was glad he didn’t have to drink much of.

“Tonight,” Elder Saul continued, “we remember our fallen. We remember those gave their lives for the duty of kingship. In remembrance of our fallen, we drink.” Again, everyone drank from their cup.

“Tonight, we look to our future. We look to Gabriel, the next in the long line of men to undergo the King’s Trials. We wish him favor with the spirits of the kings. We wish him strength in the blade of his sword. We wish him worth in the eyes of destiny. For Gabriel, we drink.”

After everyone had drunk for the third time, Saul finished the ceremony, “In light of the King’s Trials that lay ahead of us, we feast.”

The declaration was met with hearty approval as the townspeople began to dig into the feast prepared at each table. Gabe ate only enough to satisfy his hunger, careful not to overeat. The head table was silent in stark contrast to the rest of the gathering. While the village talked and laughed and celebrated, Gabe sat in a determined silence with his parents and mentor.

His dad looked much like himself: a look of steely determination on his face. Determined not to lose a son, determined not to lose control of his emotions. Only one of those did he have any control over. His mother was much more morose. Every couple seconds, she would shoot a sad glance towards him as if this was the last time she’d see him but didn’t want to admit it to herself.

This event was harder for his parents than himself, Gabe realized a couple minutes into the meal. And for good reason. His father’s brother was last to die in the Trials, almost forty years ago. Gabe’s mother, at the time, was betrothed to Gabe’s uncle. After his death, his parents relied on each other for comfort. Now that their son was going through the same event, their obvious distress was understandable.

Elder Saul eventually stood after a tense half an hour and the townspeople quieted in anticipation. As he stood, Gabe’s mother choked out a sob as her tears began to flow. Gabe’s father grasped his forearm, stopping him from rising with the elder. “Gabe,” his father began, his voice almost a hiss, “Come back. I don’t give a damn if you become king, I just want my son to come back.” Gabe’s mother sobbed again. Gabe nodded and pulled away from his father to join the elder.

Elder Saul led him away from the now silent square. As they walked away, Gabe found Josh sitting with his family. Carissa, usually found nearby, was absent. When Gabe gave Josh a questioning glance, the male counterpart could only shrug before giving him a thumbs up in encouragement. It was the last interaction he had before they left the square.

Gabe followed his mentor through the town towards the tall tower at the edge of town. The tower rose a story above all the other buildings of the town. It marked the entrance to the iron mine of the town. The tower also guarded the entrance to the Trial site.

The two guards -- the only two people not at the feast -- let them in the tower with only a nod of encouragement. Gabe followed the elder to the top of the tower and across a wooden bridge to the mountain. On the mountain stood an elaborate wooden arch. Beyond the arch, stairs were carved into the mountain, lit by the moon and random torches. The stairs were uneven in height but worn smooth where the men of the island traversed them. Gabe couldn’t see where the stairs stopped.

“This is where we part, Gabriel,” Elder Saul said as he drew them to a stop. An aged hand was placed on Gabe’s shoulder, “At the top rests the burial site for all our past kings. There you will find the next hurdle you must overcome. May the Past Kings guide you.”

Gabe nodded and moved to pass under the arch. “Oh, and Gabe?” He turned to face his mentor one last time. The old man looked vulnerable yet proud. “I’ve been training the young men of this island for fifty years. No one, not even your uncle, was as worthy as you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gabe choked out after a moment of silence. With his gratitude expressed, he turned away and began to climb the mountain.

The stairs were worn smooth but hard under Gabe’s feet. It only took a couple minutes of climbing the stone steps for his feet to begin hurting. He glanced up towards the peak of the mountain, unseen in the dark, looking for an end to the stairs. He saw none. With a determined huff, he continued his climb.

It took close to two hours and a dozen switchbacks before Gabe finally came to the end of the stairs. He knew he wasn’t at the top of the mountain as it rose higher in front of him, but he had reached his destination.

It was a small arena carved into the side of the mountain, lined with a dozen or so torches. Gabe idly wondered how the torches were lit, but shrugged off the thought. Also bordering the arena were statues that towered above Gabe. He recognized them as kings who once ruled on Iron Island. The center statue stood several feet higher than the rest atop a large pedestal. The man was Aleph the First. The founder of the island and the first king. Aleph had been shipwrecked on the island while traveling to Canalave City and after discovering the iron mine in the mountain, decided to settle on the island. Legends told of him exploring the island and coming back to the recently built town with the Sword of Kings -- or Destiny depending on who told the story. There had been no written explanation behind the sword before the last king, Omari, died, so Gabe had little idea what the sword was.

If it looked like the sword the statue was wielding, then it was massive.

The more Gabe looked on the impressive arena, the more he felt drawn into it. More specifically, he was drawn closer to the statue of the first king. As he entered the arena, he realized that actually didn’t know what his trial would require. No one really knew. All anyone knew was that everyone always brought a sword and that when a king was chosen, the sign would be clear. The details of the task were unknown to everyone.

Gabe supposed that courage in the face of the unknown was part of the trial, so he shrugged off his uncertainty and walked confidently into the arena to stand before the first king. He craned his neck to look up at the stone warrior before trailing his eyes down to the pedestal on which the statue stood. It was large, Gabe guessed nearly his height tall and wide. On it was a carefully chiseled inscription, which he read to silently to himself.

The compulsion to do something left him so he lowered himself to his knees as he thought about his next step. He knew, somehow, that this was where he was supposed to be. Every other trial goer was always back by morning. Any higher up the mountain and there would be no chance to complete a task and descend the mountain. Plus, an arena like this wasn’t just built to be visited. It had a purpose. There was a reason why every young man was sent to this spot where the statues of all the previous kings stood for the trial. There was a reason.

A reason for everything. Gabe glanced up at the statue towering above him, then back down to the inscription on the pedestal. There was a reason for the inscription. The compulsion that drew him into the arena returned with force. With that compulsion, Gabe knew what to do.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Gabriel read from the pedestal:

“Sword of Kings Test my Heart,  
Judge my Soul, and do thy part.  
With this Blade, I make my Claim.  
Let Steel decide: Throne or Shame.”

 

**A/N: A few disclaimers to make note of going into this story. First and foremost, I do not own Pokemon, nor am I making money off of this story. Now that that has been stated, I’m not going to state it again.**

**Also, I’m drawing a lot of inspiration from Renaerys’ Tamerverse and Metal Dragon’s “Sacrifice and Subjugation”. Most of my ideas for the story, I believe to be unique, but those two are a lot of the inspiration so similarities will probably pop up. Plagiarism is not intended and I will make every effort to give all credit where it’s due. Also, I will be pulling from various IRL religions as this story will focus heavily on the religions of Sinnoh.**

**Finally, updates will be incredibly sporadic. I am a full-time college student who works full time in the construction industry to pay for said college. On top of that, I somehow manage to have a life. So don’t expect weekly or even monthly updates. But updates will come.**

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**~Noxy**


	2. Heir to the Throne

**Broken Hallelujah**

**Chapter 2: Heir to the Throne**

Everything was silent. Gabe's muscles tensed in anticipation of the unknown. A minute passed, then two, then ten. Still nothing happened. Finally, Gabe allowed himself to relax. With the relaxation, he let out a sigh of frustration. He had been so sure that he was supposed to read the inscription from the pedestal. But nothing had happened. He grabbed at a rock on the ground and threw it angrily off to the side as he stood from his kneeling position.

Defeated and frustrated, Gabe turned to leave the stone arena when he saw it. A short sword with a blue tassel flowing from its hilt was floating in between him and the path down the mountain. The sword was sheathed in an intricate sheath and had a single blue eye watching him intently. It was the Sword of Kings. The sentient blade raised itself into what looked like a fighting position; Gabe mirrored the sword, drawing his own straightened sabre.

A faint whistle was the only warning Gabe had as the sheathed blade sliced downwards at Gabe's head. He rolled to the side, turning to face the blade as he stood. It was slow, but had plenty of power. Gabe was positive of that fact. He felt this would be similar to sparring with Josh who preferred a broadsword. The difference here being Gabe had no target except the sword itself.

The sword struck again, this time a diagonal slash aimed at his right shoulder. Gabe threw his own sword up to deflect the attack, allowing the force behind the slash to pivot him away from the sword. Gabe took a step back to balance himself before he lunged forward with a thrust similar to fencing. The sword batted his attack away and slashed at Gabe's other shoulder, which he took on the flat of his blade.

Gabe went back and forth with the sentient sword for what seemed like forever. It wasn't fast enough to land a hit on Gabe, and he didn't seem to be able to affect the sword with any of his own attacks. It would slash, Gabe would dodge. Gabe stabbed, it parried. A horizontal swipe, Gabe ducked. A slash of his own, the sword blocked. At some point, Gabe found himself grinning at the back and forth, truly enjoying the joust despite the consequences that he knew came with failure.

Finally, the sword stilled. Based on how the fight was going, it should have tried to gut Gabe, but it didn't. Gabe let himself settle into a defensive stance, unsure of the sword's next move. After a moment, the sword offered its hilt to Gabe, remaining sheathed.

Gabe narrowed his eyes; something didn't feel right about the whole situation. Gabe's uncle was considered the best swordsman of his generation, yet he died during his trials. And while Gabe was challenged during that fight, he never felt like his life was in danger. The sword never got close to landing a hit on him. So how would Gabe's uncle have been killed by this thing? It was then that Gabe noticed the blue tassel twitching restlessly. The twitching was eerily similar to how a meowth or purrloin would twitch their tail before pouncing on a mouse. Its single eye glinted much like a cat's would as well.

At that thought, Gabe took a step away from the blade, refusing to reach for it. As if understanding that its trap had failed, the sword wrapped its tassel around the sheath and drew its sword. The sword was short but gleamed dangerously in the torchlight that lit the makeshift battleground. Gabe grinned and lunged forward to renew the fight.

The sword threw its sheath to block Gabe's first attack. At the same time, it stabbed its blade forward, catching Gabe on his hip. The razor sharp blade sliced easily through Gabe's pants and skin to draw first blood. At the injury, Gabe stumbled and rolled away from the sword. The blade didn't press its attack, allowing Gabe to recover. It was a warning. The sword was telling him this fight would push him much farther. Gabriel ground his teeth together raised his sword in preparation.

This time, the sword attacked first, slashing at his shoulder. Gabe blocked the sword but left his left side open to the sheath's bruising swipe which forced the air from Gabe's lungs. The sword backed off once more to allow Gabe to recover. The first attack was a warning. The second was a taunt. A growl escaped Gabe as he forced himself into a fighting stance once more.

The sword swung for his head, which Gabe ducked, using his sword to block the sheath slicing towards his side again. The sword offered him no rest this time, stabbing towards his stomach while the sheath flew at his ankles. Gabe was forced to dive over the sheath to the side for evade the attack. Turning as he stood, Gabe threw his sword up to block the next attack at his head but left the blade open to slice his left forearm. The wound stung, but it wasn't terribly deep, so Gabe pushed the pain from his mind. Returning his thoughts to the fight, Gabe began to backpedal, fending off attacks from both the sword and sheath.

This, he felt, could have beaten his uncle. Gabe had no opportunity to attack as he was forced to defend from both sides constantly. The sword continued to force him backwards until Gabe felt the mountain pressing into his back. Sensing its advantage, both the sword and sheath stabbed at Gabe's stomach. He pivoted to the side and stepped away from the mountain. Where he once stood, the sword was removing half its length from the solid stone while the sheath seemed to have obliterated a large section of the mountain.

After on a second's respite, the sword was upon him once more. Gabe sidestepped and dodged more often to keep himself from being backed into a corner, but he was still unable to get an attack in. The sword was a superior opponent. And Gabe felt as if he would be lucky to walk back down the mountain. As if confirming the thought, the sword caught Gabe's right calf, sending him to one knee. Following the blade, the sheath slammed into the side of his head, throwing him violently to the ground.

Gabe frantically scrambled to his feet, trying to focus his double vision. The sword came diagonally at his shoulder once more and Gabe fell back in a disoriented dodge. The point of the sword still sliced a shallow cut across his chest as Gabe hit the ground again. Again, Gabe scrambled back to his feet, this time managing to block the sword and sheath attacking where his head once was.

Desperation began to gnaw at Gabe. He was losing, badly. He needed to do something drastic if he wanted to get out of this. He dodged the blade's next attack while deflecting the sheath. If he could stop just one of the attacks permanently, Gabe might get out.

Then it hit him.

The sheath never moved independently. It was always the tassel the moved it, like an arm would move a sword. The sword was the driving force behind the attacks, controlling itself while wielding the sheath as a second sword. If Gabe could sever the tassel, he might have chance.

The sword struck again, pushing Gabe back. But Gabe's determination was renewed with his new plan of attack. He just needed to wait until the sword maneuvered the sheath so that the tassel was left vulnerable. And after a couple minutes more of dodging and deflecting, that opening came.

The sword swung for his shoulder while the sheath trailed, swiping at his left side. Gabe rolled away from the sword and caught the sheath on his left forearm with a sickening crack and shooting pain lancing up his arm. Fighting through the pain, Gabe slashed his sword down, cleaving the navy tassel in two. A metallic shriek filled the air. Gabe let his sword clatter to the ground as he fell to his knees and clutched his ears. The movement shot a lancing pain back up his left arm and Gabe cried out.

Finally, the sound ceased, though the ringing continued in Gabe's ears. He watched as the tassel knit itself back together and grasped the sheath once more. Gabriel dropped his head in defeat. He couldn't win. His left arm was surely broken. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. And he wasn't sure his right leg could support his weight anymore.

But the biting pain of the final blow never came.

Instead, the sword offered its hilt once more, this time with the tassel grasping the sheath. It was reminiscent of when Gabe received his own blade: unsheathed, hilt first. The single pale blue eye on the hilt peered into Gabe's own blue eyes as if staring into his soul. The compulsion from before pushed him to take the blade. This time, Gabe did.

At first, nothing happened. Then the sword sheathed itself before wrapping the blue tassel tightly around his right arm. His arm throbbed dully, steadily growing in intensity and pain. Gabriel felt weaker with every passing second. His breathing got shorter and more ragged. His muscles tensed in protest. Then it stopped. Gabriel watched as the sword's eye blinked once before it darkened to match the color of his own blue eyes. Then the tassel released Gabe's arm and he felt his strength return.

Somehow, Gabriel knew that he had just completed the trial.

* * *

The trip down the mountain was significantly more difficult than the journey up it. Gabe had used a strip of his shirt to bandage the gash on his right leg. The rest of the once nice shirt was used to firmly bind a sturdy stick to his broken left arm, which Gabe set with a loud scream before making his descent. The cut across his chest bled slowly down his bare chest and his head throbbed with the concussion he probably had. Then there were the multitude of nicks and bruises he had received throughout the fight that created a strange dull throbbing sting over his whole body.

His injuries made for a very slow and tedious descent.

The sword had attached itself to his waist with its tassel, opposite of Gabe's inanimate sword. Gabe felt he needed to name the sentient blade. He was sure that it was a pokemon of some sort, though his knowledge of pokemon not common to Iron Island was extremely limited, so he had no clue what species it was. Still, the fact that it was sentient called for giving it a name more telling and personalized than 'sword'. Gabe decided it was a decision that could wait. There were more pressing matters to deal with: descending the mountain being the most pressing.

The sun was just peeking up over the sea when Gabe finished his hike. There was no one waiting for him at the elaborately carved arch, nor at the far side of the bridge. The same two guards from the night before were still standing at the bottom floor of the guard tower. When they saw the sword hanging from Gabe's hip, they both fell to a knee with their heads bowed and a mumbled, "My Lord."

Gabe looked between the two guards in confusion and a foreign sense of pride before saying, "I have a broken arm and am bleeding from about a dozen and a half different cuts. Instead of bowing, why don't you get Elder Saul to meet us at my place, Jack. Will can stay and watch the place."

Jack, the younger of the two guards and only a couple years older than Gabe, nodded quickly before shooting off in the direction of the Elder's home. Gabe sighed in relief as Will, a man close to his father's age, stood from his position. "You know, sir, it's only going to get worse," Will began with a chuckle, "First to complete the Trials in centuries. Yer gonna be treated like royalty, which, I guess you are."

"I guess. Mind helping me to the house? Not entirely sure I'll make it."

"Absolutely, sir."

"And stop with the 'sir'. You've known me since I was born."

The walk to Gabe's home was much faster with Will supporting half of his weight. It was also done in relative silence after Will had stopped laughing at Gabe's embarrassment. The pidgey and starly were just beginning their morning song as the pair reached Gabe's home. The structure wasn't anything special. A small, single story home built from roughhewn planks. On the porch was a swing big enough for two people to comfortable sit. Through the cracks in the door and the window, Gabe could see candle light flickering and the shadow of his mother moving frantically in the kitchen.

"Here ya are," Will said as Gabe dropped his arm from around the older man's shoulder.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I'd've been found in front of the Ross' place if you weren't with me," Gabe responded.

The older man waved the thanks away, "No problem. Better get back to the tower though. You know how ol' Saul gets." Gabe nodded in response and walked to the door.

After a moment of hesitation, he pushed the door open. There were two rooms to the left of the house: one was his, the other was his parents'. Both doors were closed. To the right was a small kitchen with an ice box, stove, and a handful of cabinets. In between the kitchen and bedrooms was a small living space with a table and four wooden chairs placed around it. One of the chairs had a pile of clothes stacked on it as it was rarely used.

His father, who sat at the table, noticed him first. "Gabriel," his father breathed as the man jumped from his chair and embraced him. Gabe hissed slightly at the added pressure on his chest and the sword at his side began to rattle itself in its sheath, but Gabe returned his father's hug with one arm.

The interaction drew his mother's attention and she began to smother his face with kisses crying, "My boy," over and over. Pain began to grow as his mother fought to pull him away from his father and an anxiety that certainly wasn't his overcame all other emotions.

"Mom!" Gabe finally yelled out, "Stop!" Both of his parents froze. "You're smothering me. Please, I'm in a lot of pain and I'm tired. Can we just sit?"

"Of course, sweetie," his mother gushed, "Oh goodness! I'm sorry Gabe, I didn't even think about how much pain you're in. Give me one minute and I'll grab some things." Now mindful of his injuries, his mother carefully guided him into a chair at the table before rushing into the kitchen. His father picked up his own fallen chair before settling in it once more.

"She's been cleaning all night," his father said, "Didn't sleep a wink worrying about you."

"I'm home now," Gabe responded. The alien anxiety had faded now that he was sitting, and the sword had stopped its rattling.

"You are," his father agreed, "You look like hell and you have a new sword, but you're home. And that's all that matters to us."

Gabe snorted at the first comment but decided to let it go. If he looked half as bad as he felt, then his dad might have complimented him. The two fell into a companionable silence as they watched the woman of the house scurry around the kitchen in search of things only she knew. Their silence was broken by a knock on the still open door. Gabe found Elder Saul, slightly hunched over and breathing deeply, at the door. "Gabriel. You finished the Trials. What - how - are you okay?"

"Freaking sword tried to kill me. Almost did," Gabe responded as he raised the sentient sword from his hip in display. Annoyance flared through Gabe at the words. "In a lot of pain, but I'm home."

"The Sword of Kings," Saul breathed reverently, "It's real. You fought it and won. Incredible."

"I'm not sure about 'won'. The thing is definitely better than me. I think I just proved myself worthy." A warm sense of approval blossomed in Gabe's chest.

"Can you tell us what happened?" the elder asked as he pulled a chair from beneath the table as sat down. Gabe's mother came and knelt before Gabe as the elder sat.

"Before you start," she started, "what do I need to look at first?" She had a pile of bandages, gauze, and thread on the floor beside her as well as a stone bowl filled with a blue paste.

"Probably my leg. I already reset my arm and the cut on my chest isn't terribly deep," Gabe responded, "Oh, and I've probably got a concussion." His mother sighed in exasperation but got to work cutting off the right leg of his pants.

"So, what happened?" This time it was his father who prodded for the story.

With his mother now cleaning his leg with a wet rag, Gabe began to tell the tale, "I made it to the clearing with all the statues of other kings. I felt drawn into it, specifically to the statue of the First. That statue had the inscription on the pedestal, right?" Both Saul and Gabe's father nodded. "So, I read it out loud, and at first nothing happened. But then I turned to leave and this was in between me and the path back down."

Here the elder interrupted, "Wait. All you did was read the inscription? Gabriel, I have spoken to every single man who has climbed that mountain. Many of them read that poem. Why would something different happen for you?"

"I dunno," Gabe shrugged, "I just felt like I was supposed to read it. Not sure why the sword didn't appear for them." As Gabe spoke a sense of worthiness welled within him. Like he had been chosen for a reason. Attributing the feeling to completing the trial, Gabe brushed it off and continued with the story.

"So, the sword appeared and we fought. It was weird, ya know? Fighting something without a body. But I didn't truly feel challenged. Then it stopped fighting and offered its hilt to me. Something didn't quite feel right about the whole thing, like it was a trap, so I didn't take it."

Gabe hissed as his mother began to stitch the gash on his leg closed. The sentient sword rattled slightly in its sheath but settled after a second. "Well, then the sword decided to actually fight. It used its tassel to grab on to its sheath and use it separately from its blade. I couldn't keep up honestly. Nearly fucking killed me about a dozen times. Then I started to get desperate. I took a hit to my arm and managed to cut the tassel, figuring if it was broken, I'd only have to deal with the sword -" Gabe snorted, "- I was wrong. It gave this ungodly shriek that brought me to my knees and then just knitted itself back together."

At that, Gabe fell silent. How did one admit to giving up all hope? He had lost, yet still he lived.

"What happened, son?" It was his father who spoke, though both Elder Saul and his mother were silent and still in anticipation.

"I lost. I gave up. I knew that I couldn't win. But it never killed me." Again, the feeling of worthiness filled his being. He took a deep breath and continued, "The sword offered itself to me again. This time, I took it. It wrapped the tassel around my arm and started sucking the life out of me for a couple seconds before it stopped. Then its eye changed from this pale blue to the color of my eyes."

"That's it?" Saul questioned. Gabe only nodded as his mother spread the oran berry salve over his leg before bandaging it. She then stood to clean the cut across his chest as silence fell over the group.

The silence was broken a couple minutes later by his father, "I, for one, am proud of you, Gabe. More than that, I'm glad you're home. Once your mom's done with you, go get some rest. We'll deal with the rest of the town later."

Elder Saul nodded at his father's words. "I'll let everyone know he is resting," he said as he stood slowly from his chair. "Gabriel, you are heir to the throne now. Legends tell of another sign or trial that would declare you to be king. But I hope you understand the responsibility that has been placed upon your shoulders." Gabe nodded, recognizing the seriousness of his elder's words. "Good. For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you, Gabe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's another chapter. Again, this isn't my priority, so I'm not super focused on getting content out quickly. I will be finishing the story. Also, I don't have a beta. If you'd like to volunteer, PM me. Otherwise, I do apologize for any grammar/spelling errors. I try to avoid them, but I'm not perfect.


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